With odors, incense, garlands in her hand,
When I approacht (as one from Caesar sent,)
And did her close, thy message t'vnderstand.
She turnes her backe, and with her takes me in,
Reades in thy lines thy strange vnlookt for tale:
And reades, and smiles, and staies, and doth begin
Againe to read, then blusht, and then was pale.
And hauing ended with a sigh, refoldes
Thy Letter vp: and with a fixed eye,
(Which stedfast her imagination holds)
She mus'd a while, standing confusedly:
At length. Ah friend, saith she) tell thy good Lord,
How deere I hold his pittying of my case:
That out of his sweete nature can affoord
A miserable woman so much grace.
Tell him how much my heauy soule doth grieue;
Mercilesse Caesar should so deale with me:
Pray him that he would all the counsell giue,
That might diuert him from such crueltie.
As for my loue, say Antony hath all,
Say that my hart is gone into the graue
With him, in whom it rests and euer shall:
I haue it not my selfe, not cannot haue.
Yet tell him, he shall more command of me
Then any, whosoeuer liuing can.
Hee that so friendly shewes himselfe to be
A right kinde Roman, and a Gentleman.
Although his Nation (fatall vnto me,)
Haue had mine age a spoile, my youth a pray,
Yet his affection must accepted be,
That fauours one distrest in her decay.